Single Combat
by tallshadow72
Summary: Tristan wanted to protect the kingdom and his nephew. Nimueh just wanted her friend back. Neither was destined to get their wish.


**A/N: This is set a few days after Ygraine's death. And I'd just like to say in advance that in my headcanon, Tristan the wraith did _not_ have the full mind and memories of Tristan the knight; he only knew he had a grudge against Uther.**

**I don't own Merlin.**

* * *

Nimueh dug her heels into her horse, urging her steed to match Tristan's pace. "This is madness!" she cried.

"And slaughtering everyone with so much as a hint of magic isn't?" Tristan retorted.

"He's grieving!" Nimueh defended. "He'll come to his senses. He has far too good a heart to go through with it."

"If you believe that, then you're a fool," Tristan said flatly.

"And if you kill the king?" Nimueh challenged. "What then? The kingdom will descend into chaos."

"You forget. Uther has an heir now. I will step up as regent until my nephew comes of age. And I will certainly not allow him to be raised by that _madman_. Nor will I allow all those innocents to be slaughtered. _I_ value their lives, even if you don't."

"I _do_ value their lives," Nimueh grumbled. "If it really comes to that, I'll break them out of the dungeons. I _cast_ the wards in the first place, I can lower them in a heartbeat. But it _won't_ come to that."

Tristan finally turned in his saddle and faced her properly. "Nimueh. He has turned the entire _realm_ against you. How many lords turned you away before you came to me?"

"Cowards," Nimueh murmured bitterly.

"Perhaps so," Tristan conceded. "But he _will_ have you killed if you set foot inside the city again. Even _you_ can't fight the entire army."

"Fine," Nimueh sighed. "But Tristan, there has _got_ to be some other way! Make a motion in the council, say he's unfit to rule until he gets his head on straight! He's your friend too, how can you be so quick to condemn him?"

"Are you forgetting that he ignored your warnings?" Tristan snapped. "He was so desperate for an heir, he didn't care if he had to kill some nameless, faceless subject to get one. And now that the nameless, faceless subject turned out to be _my sister_, he still refuses to admit any wrongdoing. His pride always was his weakness. He won't back down. Deep inside, you must know that. If the kingdom is to have any hope of stability—if my nephew is to become an honorable man worthy of his mother's sacrifice—then Uther must be removed from power. Permanently."

Nimueh swallowed, trying to find fault in his logic. She could not. "Very well. I will not stop you. But I will not help you either."

Tristan shook his head. "I would never ask you to. _I_ will fight with honor, even if he does not. I must set a proper example for Arthur."

* * *

Word had spread of Tristan's impending arrival, and Uther rode out to meet him at the gate. "Sir Tristan," he greeted coldly. "What is this I hear of you harboring the traitor?"

Tristan did not deign to reply. Wordlessly, he took off his gauntlet and threw it at Uther's feet.

"Have you lost your mind?" Uther breathed. "No, wait—I see now. She has obviously enchanted you. Come to the castle, Gaius will find a way to free you from her spell."

"I am not enchanted," Tristan spat. "Pick it up."

Uther shook his head. "Grief for your sister has obviously made you susceptible to the traitor's wiles. There will be no punishment. Just let us help you."

"I am not the one driven mad by grief," Tristan said coldly. "Nimueh was only following _your_ orders, she is no traitor. You and you alone are responsible for my sister's death. You will answer for it. _Pick up the gauntlet._"

Uther sighed. "Guards, arrest Sir Tristan."

Soldiers immediately moved to obey the command, hauling Tristan off his horse. He fought, glaring hatefully at Uther. "What would Ygraine say?!"

"_Silence!_"

"You're a tyrant, Uther," Tristan pressed on. "Much as I grieve her, I thank the gods that Ygraine isn't here to see what you've become. You dishonor her!"

"SILENCE!" Uther dismounted and snatched up the gauntlet. "If you truly wish so strongly to join her, then I will oblige you."

Tristan finally stopped fighting the guards, gazing stonily at his former friend. "Single combat. Noon tomorrow."

Uther turned to the guards, his gaze cold as steel. "Take him to guest chambers, and keep him there."

* * *

"I want to see my nephew," Tristan said, glaring at the guards outside his door.

"You're to stay in this room until the combat, my lord. King's orders."

"Fine. I'll be seeing Arthur soon enough anyway." Tristan turned as if to go back into his room, then suddenly whirled around and smashed the guards' heads together. Thanks to their helmets, the blow did not knock them unconscious, but it dazed them enough that Tristan was able to disarm them and lock them in his room.

* * *

The guards on Arthur's chambers were not so easily surprised. Tristan managed to incapacitate them, but he knew that more guards would come to investigate soon. He hurried into the prince's chambers, eliciting a scream from the frightened nursemaid.

"It's all right, I mean no harm to either of you," Tristan said soothingly. "I'm just here to see my nephew."

"Th-the king has g-given his orders…"

"And you can tell him the big, strong knight overpowered you. Please, let me see my sister's son."

Still looking frightened, the nursemaid reluctantly handed Arthur to Tristan. He gently cradled the infant in his arms. "You look just like your mother, don't you?" Tristan said softly. "Let's hope you have her kindness too. I won't let him turn you into a monster, Arthur. I swear it."

"Unhand the prince, _now_," Sir Geraint said from behind him.

Tristan handed Arthur back to the nursemaid. "I'll be back, little one. Promise." Then he allowed the guards to escort him out, head held high.

* * *

In the morning, Tristan was halfway out of the castle when he was attacked by a very small figure. "No fight! No fight! Please no fight!"

Tristan looked down and saw the young Lady Morgana clinging to his leg. Gently, he pried her free. "I have to. One day, you'll thank me for it."

"No fight!" Morgana insisted, growing increasingly hysterical. "_No fight!_"

Thankfully, Vivienne appeared from around the corner. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, scooping up her now-screaming daughter.

"It's all right," Tristan assured, sparing a warm smile for the little girl.

"Good luck," Vivienne added, so softly he barely heard her over Morgana's wails.

Tristan nodded and continued on his way to the arena. Morgana seemed to quiet down as he walked away. He did not see the solemn, wide-eyed look she gave her mother, nor did he hear her ominous proclamation. "Tistan fall."

* * *

Nimueh walked through the city, wearing a hood and a powerful charm to ensure that none who saw her would recognize her. Sounds in the courtyard distracted her from the path to the arena. She went to investigate, and found herself staring in horror.

Pyres. A dozen pyres were under construction, and judging by the amount of wood piled around the edges of the square, Uther intended to build more. It was a sickening sight—burning at the stake had been outlawed some three hundred years ago, banned for its sheer cruelty. Now Uther had decided to bring it back, and Nimueh had a horrible feeling she knew why.

Fire was the only non-magical way to kill a high priestess.

* * *

Sir Geraint presided over the combat. "The fight shall be by the Knights' Rules, and to the death. Let battle commence!"

Tristan and Uther immediately swung, blades clashing. "You have forced my hand," Uther growled.

"No, you forced _mine_," Tristan retorted, swinging again. "_Someone_ has to make you answer for your crimes. Nimueh won't do it; she still believes you will forgive her, did you know that?"

"I WAS DECEIVED!" Uther roared, swinging more furiously. "Do not dare speak that name in my presence!"

"Or what?" Tristan challenged, blocking. "You'll kill me? As you plan to kill your _friend_, Nimueh? As you plan to kill the hundreds of innocent magic-users in Camelot?"

"THERE ARE NO INNOCENTS!" Uther shouted. Tristan was forced to use his shield to fend off the relentless assault.

"I can think of one," Tristan countered. "Arthur. You would have him grow up soaked in blood."

"He is a prince," Uther said curtly, swinging at Tristan's head. Tristan ducked. "It is his birthright, unpleasant though it may be."

"He is a _child_. A babe!" Tristan backed up to the edge of the arena, distantly realizing he was losing.

"He cannot afford childhood," Uther said coldly. "Not if he is to protect this realm from the forces that took his mother."

"He won't have to," Tristan snapped. "_I_ will protect this realm from you."

"You speak treason."

"I will protect everyone from you. Especially Arthur. I will ensure he knows _exactly_ what kind of monster his father became in the end."

Uther roared incoherently. Too late, Tristan realized his mistake in constantly provoking the king. Uther's next blow went straight through Tristan's shield and landed squarely in his gut. He collapsed, the world washed in agony. He could feel his life rapidly slipping away. Then he caught sight of a hooded figure, and instinctively he knew it was Nimueh. He locked eyes with her.

"One day," Tristan vowed, his voice choked with pain. "One day, I will return to Camelot, and I _will_ have my revenge."

Nimueh nodded, fighting back tears as the light faded from Tristan's eyes. Though he had no magic to speak in her mind, she had perfectly understood his final request—avenge him. Avenge him and Ygraine and all the innocents to be lost in the coming Purge, even if she had to resort to the darkest arts to do it.

_You say I am evil, Uther? So be it, then. I have always followed your orders. Let me show you just how _evil_ I can be._


End file.
